No winners
by impressed
Summary: What happened between Bella and a married man left a huge trace behind it. A son, that Bella raise together with Jasper. When the real father wants to know his son the intrigues show up in big numbers. AH, AU, Rated M for language and lemons.
1. Chapter 1

**PROLOUG**

Light flows into my vision as the door to my room opens. Through my tears I look up, hopeful. Maybe he's changed his mind. Maybe he's coming back to me.

He hasn't and he isn't. It isn't him in the doorway; it's a man in a wheelchair. He rolls in with an apologetic smile.

"I saw the lights were on, and figured you could need some company," the stranger says. His voice is raspy and low, not at all like a young man's voice should sound.

My feet are prickling from sitting in the lotus-position too long, my face is tearstained, but no tears are falling anymore. The ugly hospital-gown is scratchy at the base of my neck, but I don't reach up to scratch it, the hospital bed uncomfortable now that I've been sitting too long in one spot.

"I could, thank you," I say in a whisper. My voice sounds foreign, distant. I can't make out what the change is.

"Why are you in here?" asks the new friend.

"Pregnant," I say carefully, tasting the painful word. "Shouldn't be, because I have fibroids. Needed surgery. You?"

"Car-accident," is the answer I get. "When do you get out?"

"Tomorrow," I say. Realising that we both are talking as if we are in prison. In some ways I feel like I am. "You?"

"Same," he says, his voice still raspy and low, as if it hurts to speak. "Why have you been crying?"

"Because he chose her," I say. This time I realise why my voice sounds strange. It's completely void of any emotion. "You?"

"Memory-loss," he says, and now his voice cracks slightly. Maybe his vocal-chords were hurt in the crash. "Who's he?"

"The father. He left us, not just me, us." As I speak the words I understand that most of the pain lies within the fact that my child isn't good enough to make him stay. "What you forget?"

"My fiancé. She's leaving me." Now his voice is void of emotion as well.

There is a silence that stretches between us, and I don't know how to break it. My mind wanders back to the scratching that should be done at the base of my neck. I can't summon the powers to actually reach up and do it. Indecision breaks through my mind. To scratch or not to scratch. His voice pulls me from having to make the choice.

"How does it feel? To be left by someone you know you love?"

It's the longest he's spoken so far, and it catches me off guard. I can hear his voice go weaker at the end of the question and realise that I was probably right. Maybe this man before me is hurt beyond repair.

"Like every feeling and memory I ever had with him is pulled out of me, from under my fingernails, through my eyeballs. No, scratch that." My own wording makes me want to scratch my neck again. Damn it. "Like he's made an incision in me, pulling the memories and feelings out of me by hand and cutting them out. With no anaesthetics."

A new long silence, but it's comfortable. Not awkward. This time I reach up and scratch my neck gently. God, that feels incredibly good. And I almost fall over from exhaustion.

I speak before I think.

"How does it feel? To be left by someone you know you should love?"

"Like.." He traces of. After a while, with both of us staring blankly into the air, he says: "Nothing. I feel nothing. And I cry because I know I should feel something, but I can't."

He coughs slightly at the end of this sentence. I will have to make sure to ask him easier questions.

"What are you going to do?" His next question is the only one I know.

"Sit here," I say. "And wait until he's done doing open-heart surgery on me. Until I'm like you, and feel nothing. You?"

"Nothing," he answers again. I believe he is fond of that word.

We sit again. For a long time, just being in each other's company and it's so peaceful. Somehow I don't feel like puking now.

"I don't know how to continue," I say, softly; like a whisper I'm not sure I want anyone to hear. "How am I, fuck-up extraordinaire, going to raise a child on my own?"

This is not a question I want an answer to; this is the question I fear.

He sits there again. Not moving, I fear that any movement hurts him now. Maybe the painkillers they would have given him earlier have subdued? Maybe we should call a nurse for him. Then again, maybe the pain he feels is more like mine. If it is, it can't be handled with painkillers.

"You're not alone," his voice startles me. Almost as if he has been saving all he's got to say those three words; his voice is not raspy and it's not weak. It's strong, firm and golden. And more importantly: filled with emotion.

"Who are you?" I ask, looking at his eyes. He is not looking in my direction. His gaze is falling to the window behind me, and out into the dark night.

"Jasper Whitlock," he says, his voice back to normal. Or should I say; not normal. I refuse to believe that the voice he speaks with now is his real one. There is no comparing it to the voice I heard just a minute earlier. "You?"

"Isabella Swan." I notice my voice is fading as well now. And my eyelids are falling, drooping heavily. I am tired; I have just felt too much over the last couple of hours. My mind has been on a rollercoaster that should belong in outer space. Suddenly I feel all my physical pains. My head is reeling and my body aching.

He senses it, or maybe he also is starting to feel something again. Carefully, and excruciatingly slowly, he starts to wheel himself out of the room. I don't feel like I have to speak anymore; we have an understanding, and it's all good.

While watching him leave, on his way back to his own room, the scratching at the base of my neck returns. Now its spread, and I want to throw something, but I fear that all that motion will kill me. My every muscle aches: I have never been this tired before. I have never needed to fall away this badly before.

There's just one thing more I need to know. I have no idea why, but I really need it. A name, something hard and real.

"What's her name?" I ask to his retreating form. He stops in the doorway, the light from the hallway illuminating his silhouette, but he doesn't turn around.

"Alice Brandon." He speaks out into the empty hallway, but I hear it clearly enough. "You?"

I speak to the back of his head, but it is fine, because I don't want him to see me as I speak the name.

"Carlisle Cullen." I still wince in pain just saying the name. I still feel the tingles in my belly at the thought of him. God, how contradicting. He still causes me all this familiar pleasure, but now it's mixed with an unfamiliar pain. I love him; I hate him. I want him; he repulses me. I need him; I never want to see him again.

Jasper nods and rolls out of my room. Maybe I'll see him again. Maybe we'll bump into each other one day, when we're both healed and moved on. When I no longer mourn over someone I love, and he someone he doesn't love. Maybe we will be friends sometime. It might happen, but it might not. Maybe she loves him, and maybe he starts to remember. Maybe they get back together again, and live happily ever after. I hope for the best for him, even if I never see him again. And maybe, one day, I will have the privilege that he has – but doesn't want. Maybe one day I'll forget.

It takes all my power to lay back down into the bed and close my eyes.

I fall asleep without scratching the base of my neck.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Stephanie Meyer owns the characters, I own the plot

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER ONE<strong>

"Alexandre Martin Swan," I scream. "I swear to God above; if you don't get your behind inside this house right now there will be no more TV or ice-cream, for the rest of your life."

I'm standing at the porch of my very lovely house. It's white, with a picket fence and just the fact that it has an actual porch makes me want to squeal in happiness.

My son runs up to me with muddy shoes and a toothless grin. "Sorry Mom," he says excitedly. He had always been one to love the rain and muddy weather. Sadly enough for his clothes and shoes, and his mother who has to clean all his clothes.

"And I won't live here for the rest of my life, so you can't decide that." His voice is mischievous, and I have to laugh. Though it scares me. I have a six year old son who already is losing his teeth and is fully aware that he one day will move out from under my caring wing. He might be ready to think about that, but I certainly am not.

"Alex, take your shoes of before you go into the house," I hear from behind me. His voice will never stop making me feel warm and fuzzy. My son murmurs a 'sure, pa' before I hear him running inside.

A hand snakes its way around my waist and I find myself pulled into his chest. He kisses my hair softly.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" he murmurs. Sounding so much like Alex, one could almost think that it was genetic. I see my husband and my son as the perfect example of genetics versus environment. I know Alex has learned the murmur from him.

"I'm fine," I answer, leaning into his chest and letting my head fall back onto his shoulder. I can always find the support I need in him. "You?"

He chuckles softly, and it makes me giggle. We always end up back there at least once in our conversations.

"I'm fine," he answers as well. Always repeating my answer to that question, I remember him once saying that _whatever feeling you have, I share; if you're happy I am, if you're sad I am. _"Your tense, Bells." His warm breath flows down my neck and he kisses that spot just below my ear that he knows makes me tell him whatever he wants.

"Work was stressful," I say. And I turn and look at him, gazing into his scorching blue eyes. _God, how I love his eyes,_ I think. "But I'm better now, now that I'm home."

He smiles lazily at me, with the confidence that only a Texan can bear in a good way. Unable to resist myself I lean up and kiss his lips slowly, and then less so. Until this day he still makes me react the same way; I want more. Whenever I touch him, or am near him, I want more. And I know he feels the same, as he slides one arm around my back to pull me closer and the other holds the base of my neck to allow him to deepen the kiss.

All too soon he breaks away. "Alex is just inside," he says softly. And I nod. "Yes, yes he is."

"Do you need a moment?" Always the considering, gentleman. He never ceases to amaze me. Once again I nod. It takes a little while every day to rid myself of the things I see at my work and both my husband and son understands this need. He kisses me lightly once more before letting go of me.

"I love you," he whispers with a wink, and I smile. He always knows how to make me feel just a fragment better.

"I love you, too, Jasper," I answer honestly, and he turns and walks back into the house.

I stand back and gaze after him. As I said; he never ceases to amaze me. Since that first night in the hospital he has come so far. There are still holes in his memory, and when he is tired you can still see a slight limp in his right leg. But he has slowly, but surely worked his way back to the life that he dreamt about when he was young.

He remembers her now, Alice Brandon. It scares me, just a little. Deep down I know that I don't need to worry. We've fought over it before and hopefully never again. I can still remember his rage.

xXxXx

"_Why is it so fucking hard to believe?" _

_I don't think I have ever seen Jasper lose his temper like this. Not this badly. It is almost scary._

"_She left me, Bella. When I needed her the most, both physically and mentally. I needed her and she ran into hiding, with her tail between her legs. You're the one who saved me!" _

_I flinch at his anger. And when my eyes meet his I recoiled further. His usually warm and kind blue eyes were stone cold and filled with hatred. _

"_Jasper," I begin but he cuts me off with a hand-gesture. If you hate me now, I will die, I want to say. But it's his turn to speak, and it is only fair. I have said my share for this evening. _

"_Why won't you just let me love you?" he asks his voice now turned into a hoarse whisper from all the strain. _

"_That fucker Cullen fucked you over so much that you won't even let me love you. Do you even want me to, Isabella? Or do you still long for him. Is that why you question me so much?" _

_It feels as if he's slapped me. And to makes matters worse he leaves. Slamming the door behind him, leaving me to sob alone. _

_Alex is luckily with his grandparents this week. It's Monday. _

_By Thursday the pain of his absence is unbearable, and I need him home again. I know where to find him when he's like this, so I go there. _

_Sitting by the bar at 'Thomas' pub' is the man that all my happiness depends on. I walk up to him and sit on the free chair next to him. _

"_If you want out, Bella, you have to end it. I won't and you have to stop trying to make me. I want you, don't try and force me to mean anything else. You need to trust me. Please." _

_His voice is barely above a whisper, and I know his vocal chords probably still hurt from all the screaming he did. _

"_I love you, Jasper. Please come home." _

_It's all I have to say. It's all he needs to hear. _

xXxXx

There is an unspoken agreement between us now: we never speak of them. And we try to refrain from thinking about them.

The one thing I hate the most is that his voice still gets tired. I was right back when I guessed that his voice was hurt forever. You have to know him well to hear it, but there is still a light rasp, constantly, unless he is working to keep it out. And when he speaks a lot it becomes more prominent, and it kills him. It's the one thing that still forces him to remember the accident.

My friends always say that he has such a sexy voice. "I just love that slight drawl and rasp he still has from his southern upbringing," they say. None of them know that the rasp is the one thing he hates about himself. I love him, no matter what, but it pains me to see him struggle with it. It pains me the way I can see his jaw tense when he starts to hurt, and how I can see the tired look in his eyes when he, once again, loses the battle against the rasp.

I turn and look out towards the yard again. It's raining, but it is just a light drizzle, and I sigh.

When Alex turned two I decided I needed a job. I had to do something with my days, seeing as Jasper was working and doing physiotherapy all the time and Alex was in kindergarten. The problem was of course that I had dropped out of school after high school, leaving me with no real education.

For weeks and weeks I searched, but no one would hire me, until a friend of mine told me about The Helping Hands-shelter. She said they needed hands, and I went there the day after. The next week I was hired.

The Helping Hands is an organization working with helping young girls, and mothers, who struggle with life. We don't ask why they are there, or how they ended up the way they did; we just help. And I love my job. It is fulfilling in so many ways, but some days we see things that make us wish we were working elsewhere. Some days I just need a moment to leave all the sorrow and pain at the front door of my home, making sure not to bring it into my own life.

After standing still, just breathing, for minute I let out a small sigh again, before I start turn around and walk back inside. In the hallway, as I bend down to take my shoes of, something catches my eye through the slightly open door. A familiar car, with a slightly familiar face in it. Quickly I push the door further open, but the car has gone. I shake my head and chuckle at myself. _Paranoid much?_

Walking into the kitchen I find Jasper and Alex playing with some LEGO at the kitchen-table, and smile.

"Who's hungry?"

xXxXx

I walk carefully down the stairs. It's an old house, with lots of personality and also lots of creaky steps in the stairs. Every night, after putting Alex to bed, I walk the stairs just that much more carefully. And then I make my way over to the couch and sit down beside Jasper, leaning into him and just existing with him. This evening routine is my favourite part of the day, allowing me to relax and just be.

On this particular night 'You've got mail' is on the screen and I can't help but smile. Jasper hates this movie, I love it. Every time he senses that my day has been rough he puts it on; just to please me.

I fall into him, letting my muscles relax at last, and Jasper kisses my neck. He lets small kisses rain over the scar I've got there. The scar I got from the hospital, and from scratching to profoundly at one spot without rest.

"What's wrong, darlin'?" he asks into my hair, as always sensing that I am not myself.

Sometimes I swore he could read my mind, but in reality he just knew me very well.

"I think I'm losing it, Jazz." My voice is raw, and suddenly I feel tears threaten to fall. "I'm just so tired, all the time lately, and today I could have sworn I saw _him_ as well."

Underneath me Jasper tenses slightly, and I can't blame him.

It has been ages since we've spoken about Carlisle Cullen, and we have always avoided the topic when we knew Alex was in the house. I have now broken two of our most important unspoken agreements.

The thing is this: Jasper hates Carlisle Cullen, with a passion unlike anything. It's not strong dislike or loathing. It is pure, unadulterated hate, even more so then I feel. My feelings towards him have become more like apathy. But Jasper won't let it go.

And maybe he has all that more reason to. If anyone knows how much Carlisle Cullen broke me; it is Jasper. He was the one who picked up all the pieces and put me back together. He has seen pretty much every tear I have cried over the man, and he has helped me through every rough patch. Jasper has been my 'doctor', best-friend, saviour and more. And he has mended my broken heart; not for his own sake, but for my sake.

"It's probably just my mind playing tricks with me," I say, trying my best to rectify the situation. "Telling me to get some rest. Right?"

Jasper sighs, and I know that everything will be okay.

"Want to talk about it?" he whispers sweetly in my ears, and I shake my head vehemently.

"I just want to watch Kathleen fall in love." And I turn and give him a peck on the lips, earning me a glorious smile from him, and him tightening his arms around me.

xXxXx

"Angie, do you mind answering that phone?" I shout over my shoulder. It has been ringing off the hook all morning, and I have to get these papers finished.

"Sure thing, Bells!" I hear, before the ringing stops, and I hear her sweet voice go: "The Helping Hands-shelter, this is Angela Weber speaking, how may I help you?"

I smile to myself as I continue with the paperwork I'm doing at the front desk. It has been an extremely hectic morning, and I am grateful that I am not alone here today. Most Saturdays there is only one person working, but by a slip we are two here now.

Angela has been working here for two years longer than me; she has seen it all. And somehow she knows when to set herself up on extra weekend shifts, somehow sensing when the extra hands are going to be needed.

I hear the front door open, and footsteps walk towards the reception desk, and I look up just enough to see that it's a man standing in front of me. I put on a polite smile, and my 'at work with a costumer'-voice, and without looking up follow the script. "Welcome to The Helping Hands-shelter, Sir. How can I help you?"

My question is followed by a short silence, before I hear the voice that can make my back creep with dread.

"You can start by looking up at me, Isabella," Carlisle says, and I do as he says. There had never been a time where I could defy him; I would always, always do as he told me. Even now that I hadn't spoken to him in years, and felt, hopefully, nothing for him I still couldn't help it.

"And then you can tell me about my son, and let me see him."

I swallow hard, looking up at him. The moment I have dreaded Alex's entire life has arrived.

My eyes wander over the man before me. He is still every bit as handsome as he always was, with his chiselled jaw, kind gray eyes and blond hair. Somehow he can still take my breath away.

Something deep inside me flutters, and I have to ask myself: is this really dread, or is it what it always was? But I quickly shake the thought away; of course it is dread. He bears no power over me any longer, right?

"Angie, I'm going outside for a moment."

xXxXx

Outside the Phoenix-sun is burning hot. Yesterday had been one of the very few days with actual rain in this city. People are strolling slowly up and down the pavement, trying not to use too much energy. Every single one of them carrying a bottle of water with them.

To avoid looking at him I let my eyes wander meaninglessly around the street, while trying to conjure up one good reason for him to be here. I already have a thousand reasons to why I shouldn't care, or listen to anything he has to say.

"Isabella," his voice is soft and warm. Just as it always was. "Look at me, please."

I shake my head. He cannot order me around, not anymore. He has no right to show up here and demand things from me. After all; it was he who left us, not the other way around. It was his choice.

"I won't," I murmur. Mostly because I just need to defy him, and because words have left me.

My mind has gone completely blank, just as the day he left me. The only thought that is running around up there is _nonononononononono._ And so on; you get the picture.

"Please," his voice almost begging. My willpower lets me down again, as so many times before. When it comes to Carlisle Cullen I have no real control, so I lift my eyes and meet his.

"You look great," he says with a kind smile. The smile that I fell so hard for, back in the days when I was young and obviously very foolish. Within seconds my mind is flooded with memories of him, from the very beginning 'till the very end. Memories I thought I had left behind a long time ago, but that I now see with crystal-like clarity.

All of it ending in the horrible memory of the end.

xXxXx

_My head is pounding. Why? I can't remember what has happened. _

_Let's roll over on my side; auch, that hurts. A whole fucking lot. Okay, I get it, bad fucking idea. Damn it, what's wrong with me. And what the hell is that horrible beeping sound. And God, that smell; a mix between blood and disinfectant. It reeks of sickness in here. And why is my neck so scratchy? _

_I open my eyes, and blink disoriented. Also, that light is horribly... well, horrible. _

"_Isabella, you're awake." _

_Ah, that voice. Like an angel saving me from the abyss. He is here, he is watching over me. Taking care of me; loving me. _

_I look towards the voice, and my eyes take a while to focus on what I see, but when they do I am eternally grateful. There he stands; just a glorious as he has always been and my heart skips a beat at the thought that he is mine. I try with a smile, and it's magically not painful, but he doesn't return it. He looks so sad, and I want to ask him what is wrong. _

"_You are both fine, Isabella," he says, reassuringly. But I am not reassured. He is using his doctor voice with me, why? He never uses his doctor voice with me. _

"_Carlisle," I start, but the look in his eyes stops me, and I realise what is about to happen. _

"_No," I say. "No, please don't. Don't leave me, Carlisle. Don't leave us." I sound just as desperate as I am. _

"_I have no choice," he answers dejectedly. And I shake my head as hard as I can possible manage without puking. _

"_Yes, you have." My voice has risen with at least one octave, if not two. "You have a choice. Chose me, chose us, Carlisle. We can be a family."_

_Somehow that was the wrong thing to say. _

"_I have a family Isabella," now his voice is even more the voice of the doctor. I don't want to hear it; I want the voice of the lover. "A wife and two sons."_

"_I can't do it without you!" I try, but I already know that I can't make him stay, no matter what. _

"_Yes, you can," and he is Carlisle again. Dr. Cullen has gone. "You will be a great mother, Isabella. And you will do perfectly well. I can't leave her, I love her. Please understand."_

"_I need you, I love you. Carlisle, don't go."_

"_I have to." _

"_No, chose me." _

"_I can't stay any longer, Isabella. I have to go."_

"_Fine." It's like a switch has been flipped. My voice is hard, and cold. I am filled with so many emotions that they all mix into indifference. I realise that I need to protect myself, that I need to shut him out. "But if you go now I never want to see you again. I will not let you into his or hers life later on, Carlisle. It's right now that you make your choice. If you chose them you do not exist to us."_

_He leans down and kisses my forehead. _

"_Goodbye, Isabella." And with that he turns and leaves me. _

_It's not until he has gone that I notice the tears running down my cheeks, and now that I am aware that I'm crying I cannot stop. _

xXxXx

"You can't see him," I say, my voice void of all emotion. "You made your choice years ago. Goodbye, Carlisle."

And with that I turn and walk back into the shelter, slamming the door behind me.

I don't notice that I am crying before Angela asks if I'm okay.

"I'm fine."

**A/N**

Don't hate me. And let me say that if cheating is a hard limit for you then you should just stop now, because this story will contain Carlisle cheating on Esme. As you have already seen in this chapter.

You've got Mil with Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan. Great lovestory, if you haven't seen then run along and do it. If you're a guy, well, you might not enjoy it quite as much as I do, but if you do: will you marry me?

Thanks for the reviews for the preface. Hope you enjoy this as well. I will try to respond to reviews from now on, as I greatly appreciate them!

And to all my lovely friends who support me in my decision to write this instead of composing string-quartets for homework: I love you all, from the bottom of my heart.

Changed update day to mondays, but as usual my chapters will probably be erratic, at best.

Oh, and sorry about the double mailalert-incident. Heh, had some trouble editing.

Love.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer:Stephanie Meyer owns the Characters, I own the plot.

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER TWO<strong>

"_Isabella Swan?"_

_My head snaps up at the sound of my name. I look towards the source of it and see a young doctor standing with a chart in his hand. The look in his eyes tells me all I need to know. I get up and walk over to where he stands, and he motions for me to follow him. We leave the hospital waiting-room behind, and with it the atmosphere of hope and fear as well. When we finally reach our destination, a more secluded corner of the hallway, right outside what I recognise as the door to my father's room, I am ready to fall apart. _

"_I am so sorry Ms. Swan. We did everything we could." _

_If he continues I don't hear it. Everything around me starts blending together. The smells, the sounds and the visuals. They all mix into one grey pot of despair, and I am spiralling into it head first. _

"_If you have any questions Ms. Swan, please don't hesitate to contact me." And I feel the texture of paper in my hand. Probably from the doctor slipping his card in between my fingers. _

"_You can go inside and say your goodbye."_

_So I do. I enter the tiny room that now holds everything I fear. In the bed lies my father, lifeless and pale. The strong man, the good protector and the loving parent has dissolved into nothing. Now he is just flesh and bones. I vaguely remember reading somewhere that there isn't much difference between living and dying; it's just a pulse, a heartbeat. With my father, Charlie Swan, there is a big difference, and it's all in his eyes. There is nothing of my father left in the empty pools of brown that is staring pointlessly at the ceiling. _

_Without actually feeling the motion I sit down in the chair beside his bed and grab his hand. His cold, lifeless hand, and then I just sit. _

_I am not aware that the doctor leaves, I am not aware that time passes. All I do is sit and stare at my father's eyes. Willing them to light up again, willing them to reveal that he is, in fact, just playing a really sick prank on me. 'Cause that is possible right? There are pills one could take to seem dead for twenty-four hours. I had read about it. If Juliette could, then why the hell shouldn't my father?_

_Sometime during the evening, maybe a few hours has passed - maybe a few years, I feel a hand on my shoulder. And for the first time since he died I am able to drag my eyes away from my father. Behind me stands the doctor who delivered the news. I briefly wonder if he was the one who couldn't save my father or if just got the dirty job with delivering the news to me. _

"_Ms. Swan, it's time to go. They, we, need to move your father." _

_He's taking up space. My father is taking up space. That is a cold and horrible thought, but I realise that it is also true. A fact about life: people do not enjoy dead people just lying around. _

_I look briefly down at the card that is still in my hand. Dr. Carlisle Cullen it says and I look back up at him standing there. Still with his hand on my shoulder, and a sad – maybe even a little worried – expression on his face. _

"_Dr. Cullen?" I ask. My voice sounds weird, almost like I've been crying. I lift my hand to feel my cheek and notice that it's wet. So I have been crying. Weird, I didn't even notice. _

_Dr. Cullen sits down on the edge of my father's bed just in front of me and nods. "Yes, Ms. Swan?"_

"_How do I forget? How do I survive?" _

_I can see his confusion. He doesn't know me, so it's no wonder he doesn't understand. He has no idea that my mother ran away when I was three, and since then I haven't seen her at all. _

"_I am a seventeen year old girl, all alone. What do I do now?"_

_Already I have my mind made up: I will not, under any circumstances, go into any type of foster care. It might be a good alternative, but not when I would be out on my ass in less than two months, when I turn eighteen. _

"_I'm sure you have some sort of support system around you?" he inquires gently, and I stop to think about it. I have Billy and Jacob, but they are miles away from here. When my father moved us from all I knew in Forks, Washington, to a new and bigger world in Phoenix, Arizona, I don't think he had actually planned on leaving me like this, so soon. _

"_I don't even know how to get home, Dr. Cullen. We just moved here. I don't even know my way around the city yet." And the crying really starts. I can't control the sobs that escape me, and I can't stop the tears. It all feels so useless, so unimportant. I'm not even sure I want to go home. _

"_I'll drive you," he says, putting his arms around me and letting me cry my heart out on his shoulder. _

_After a while he helps me to my feet and we head for the door. He says something about having to 'stamp out', and leaves me at the doorway, hurrying down the corridor. _

_My shoulders shake with tears. I just can't stop, and I'm not even sure I want to. Maybe this is a relief I need? _

_All while waiting for Dr. Cullen to return I stand with my back to his bed. No way can I look back at him now. And suddenly the doctor is back at my side, and he dries away some of my tears with his thumb. _

"_Come on," he whispers gently, and I nod, not finding my voice, or any powers to speak. _

_I look briefly over my shoulder and whisper a "goodbye, daddy" before I let Dr. Cullen lead me away from him. As we are headed down the corridor I turn and look back towards his room, seeing that they have already moved in to prepare him for the move. I cry just a little harder. _

_By the time we reach the car my tears have finally dried out, and I sit for the entire drive in silence. Neither of us speaks a word, but there is a tension between us. Like an electrical charge, cliché enough as it is. _

_We reach the house, but I'm not able to move. I just sit there staring up at its unfamiliar outside. Dr. Cullen sighs. _

"_I'll walk you up," he says and gets out of the car, walking around the front to my side and opening my door for me. I get out as carefully as I can, scared that any sudden movements might make me fall apart. And then we walk. He seems to understand my reluctance to actually reach the house, and matches his strides to my slow ones. When we reach the door I stop abruptly. First staring at the door, then turning to him and finally really looking at him. _

_He is absolutely, one hundred percent gorgeous. A fine, chiselled jaw; pale, flawless skin; blond, full hair and a pair of the kindest, most compassionate and magnificent grey eyes I have ever seen. He stuns me, and leaves me slightly breathless. I carefully touch his hand, staring into his eyes, and make the move that I know will probably be both the worst and the best of my life. _

"_Please Carlisle," I say, taking his first name in my mouth for the very first time. "Help me forget."_

xXxXx

And then I wake up, panting and with my mind screaming a loud _noooooooo. _I do not want to go there; I do not want to remember that night. How stupid I had been, how reckless. I sit up and look over to where Jasper is still sleeping soundly. He's still oblivious of the fact that Carlisle had come to visit me. It had to be for the best.

Silently, I get out of bed and put my slippers on. I need some air, desperately, so I sneak down the stairs, almost successfully without creaking. Making my way to the kitchen I fetch myself a glass of water before walking out on to my porch, sitting down in the hammock with a sigh.

The visit from Carlisle had woken up some nasty memories that I did not want to remember. I had spent the months after he left me and before Alex was born with packing them all away, into a little tiny box. Then I had spent the first few months after Alex' birth putting that tiny box into a corner of my mind so far out that I would never ever have to face them again.

But now it turns out that it had all been in vain. One look of his face and into those deep eyes and they were all back, with double the force.

The door creaks and I look up to find Jasper standing there. He's in a t-shirt and some boxers and his hair and eyes are mussed up with sleep. Even when newly awoken he looks incredible.

"You okay?" He asks, walking out on the porch and up to me. Standing in front of me him he sits down on his haunches and grabs my free hand. The other hands he uses to support himself in my knee.

I nod and offer him my water. He takes it and takes a small sip.

Keeping secrets from Jasper is never easy; he always know too well how I feel, but he also knows when not to push me and this is one of those times.

For a long time he just sits there, holding my hand and soothing me with his company. Until I shiver from the chilly breeze. That makes him get up and drag me up by my arm as well.

"You're cold, let's go to bed."

And once again I just nod.

xXxXx

"_Please Carlisle," I say, taking his first name in my mouth for the very first time. "Help me forget."_

_Before I even have time to consider what I am saying his lips are on mine. One of his hands grabbing my hips to pull me closer and the other making its way into my hair. His soft, warm lips are caressing mine, carefully and with caution. As if he's just as worried as I am that I might break. I let my hands travel up his chest, around his neck and into his soft hair and from there on we both realise that I am just not that fragile. _

_He pushes me, back first, against the door and the kiss deepens. Now it's harder, more craving and containing more passion. His hand leaves my hair and finds its way down to my waist and under my top, slowly caressing my naked flesh. I moan into the kiss and can't stop myself from grinding against him, feeling how hard he has become. _

"_Key, Isabella. We need to get inside, now." _

_His voice is hoarse with anticipation and heat, but still commanding in a very hot way, making me even more turned on. I find my key and unlock the door, opening it for him to enter first. _

_As soon as we are inside and the door is closed I once again find myself pressed up against the wall by him. His lips going straight for my neck; kissing, sucking and letting his teeth graze along my skin down to my collarbone. All at the same time as his hands remove my cardigan and camisole excruciatingly slowly, his mouth only leaving my skin when he has to. _

_I moan into the darkness that surrounds us and claw at his sweater and shirt. There is a raw need inside me and I need to feel his skin. Somehow he gets what it is I need and withdraw from me only to remove the clothes on his upper body, and then his mouth crashes back onto mine as we both struggle with the buttons of each other's pants. _

_He is just a little quicker than me, and when I finally get his fly undone I almost simultaneously have to step out of my own pants. I manage to pull down his, and have him step out of them, before one of his hands makes its way down my panties and cup my sex. His other hand remove my bra with expertise, which probably should worry me but doesn't, and his tongue finds my nipple at the exact same time as he flicks my clit with one of his fingers. It feels like I might combust then and there. _

"_Christ, Isabella. You're so wet for me," he groans before sucking my nipple into his mouth and continue playing with my clit. I have my hands firmly attached to his hair and I grind harshly against his hand, wanting more. His left hand starts fondling my other boob and he slightly bites into my nipple. I moan again. _

"_God, I'm so close," my voice now just as hoarse with need. _

_When he finally plunges one of his long, skilled fingers into me at the same time as he bites into my nipple I scream of joy as waves of unknown pleasure rides through my entire body. He keeps fucking me with his fingers until my orgasm rides out, and then he draws his hand out of my panties and licks my juices of himself. It's the sexiest thing I have seen in my entire life. _

"_You taste delicious, young Isabella," he says, looking into my eyes with a dark, lustful gaze. "And I will taste you again, but not now. I need to be inside you."_

_He crashes his lips unto mine again, and I can feel the taste of myself on him. His hands remove my panties, before he, himself, also removes his own boxers_

"_Wrap your legs around me, beautiful Isabella. I'm not going to make it to a bedroom." _

_His voice is so commanding and deliciously filled with lust that I do as I am told. My reward is instant when his cock plunges all the way inside me with one hard thrust. _

"_Hold on tight," he whispers seductively in my ear. "This is going to be hard and fast." _

_And true to his promise it is. It's hard, it's fast, it's rough and it's incredibly good. His cock plunges deep inside of me, hitting that sweet, sweet spot with every thrust inside me. His hands are holding my hips and guiding me up and down on him, and before I know it I am once again falling over the edge into fantastic oblivion, taking Carlisle with me as he comes inside of me as well. _

_He doesn't pull out, and we stand there; up against the wall and me with my legs wrapped around his hips, for quite some while, just panting, revelling in the post-orgasmic bliss. Though he ends it far too quickly, by starting to stir. I unwrap my legs and stand on my own two legs again. _

"_Oh shit," he says, and I look at him with confusion. He's not scrambling to get his clothes back on, so it doesn't seem to be something he regrets doing. It takes a couple of seconds of him looking all panic-stricken before I understand. _

_I stroke my hand over his chest and he looks up at me. "I'm on the pill, Carlisle." _

_His lips are on mine again before I even finish saying his name. _

"_Beautiful, wonderful and delicious Isabella.." he mutters against my lips. "Where's your bedroom? I'm not done with you yet."_

**A/N**

****Well, my first, ever, lemon. Hope you liked it. This chapter needed to be about the relationship between Carlisle and Bella, but the next will not contain quite so much of them as this one did.

As always, thanks to my beautiful friends, and you; my beautiful readers!

Love.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER THREE**

This has to be the longest, most dreadful week ever. Five days has gone past since Carlisle contacted me first. Since then I have avoided his calls, Jasper's questioning gaze and Angela's worried inquiries. I have no idea what to do any longer; I am torn. On one side I do not want to ever see, or speak, to Carlisle Cullen. On the other side I feel that my son deserves to know his real father, and I have no right to keep it from him.

And when I think that I am torn even more. Isn't Jasper his father? Haven't Jasper always been there, being his father?

xXxXx

"_Bella?"_

_I decide to not answer him from where I sit. The darkness that is cocooning me is soothing in an enveloping way, keeping me from the world. It doesn't quite keep the wailing out of my head though. I hear his steps walk into the room, and I try to shrink myself into my dark corner, as well as being completely silent. _

_The door opens and a small ray of light slithers in. _

"_Bella, darling, why are you hiding in the closet? You are aware that you have a crying baby out here?" Jasper's voice is calm, with a tinge of shock. _

_I look up at him with a panicked feeling. I'm sure I look like a deer in headlights._

"_I just... he wouldn't stop crying," I whisper breathlessly. "And I think he hates me, so I figured if he couldn't see me he would stop, because I think I scare him. Then that didn't work either, so I thought it might be my presence that bothers him so. Maybe my aura is too strong or something, I think Oprah once said that babies are very observant of auras. I realised though that I couldn't leave the room, in case he hurts himself – god knows how he'll do that with just a blanket and a teddybear when I think about it – so I figured staying in the closet was the smartest move..."_

_And I'm blabbering, in hushed tones. Great. _

_Jasper closes the door and I am in complete darkness again. A couple of minutes later the crying stops and I can hear Jasper croon in that slight southern drawl that I love about him. In the closet I can't help but start crying. _

_A little after the crying stops the door to the closet opens again and Jasper gets inside with me. He sits down beside me and puts his arms around me. _

"_It's okay," he says with soothing tones, hushing my crying, over and over again. _

"_I'm the worst mother ever, hiding in the closet," I cry. _

"_No way Bells," he says and hugs me tighter. "You're great. You're just young and scared, and you don't know what to do yet. You'll learn, and while you do I am here to help."_

xXxXx

The last hour of my life has been spent trying to calm Jessica Stanley, one of the regulars at Helping Hands, down. Jess has been with her husband, Mike Newton, for three years now. Sadly she has also been a regular here for about two years and six months, together with her two year old daughter.

As I hear the bell of the front door make its usual sound and look to see Angie speaking on the phone, and Lauren; one of the other girls working here trying to calm down the scared child I am forced to pry myself from Jess' crying and leave her to tend to the front. I hate myself for leaving a woman in such a horrible state, with her black eye and busted lip, but works got to be done, as always.

The shelter house has a front room and a back room where we bring the girls in, and also twelve apartments for the absolute worst situations. There is nothing I want more than to help every single one of the women and girls that come in here, but we have not the finances or the rooms. Girls like Jessica Stanley will sadly be forced to go back home at the end of the day.

Walking into the front room I once again find myself staring at something that seems like a shadow from the past. Though I can't really place the petite woman with her stylish dress, auburn hair and hazel eyes. As well as looking amazing she's also carrying herself with a grace and charisma that practically makes her glow. A grace and charisma I for sure could never hold.

Looking at her I smile politely, just like I am expected to with every one that comes in here, but in my mind I am back in school. Back in school with my teacher standing over me, telling me to 'pay attention, Miss Swan'. And, man, am I paying attention. My head is rushing trying to place her face, for I subconsciously know that something is wrong with this picture.

"Hi, I'm Isabella," I say, my voice coming out bright, but forced. "How may I help you, Mrs...?" I trailed off.

Growing up with your father being the chief of police you learn a few tricks in interrogation. How to quickest learn information? Ask, without really asking. Trail of into a slight question at the end of a sentence and the other person will feel a need to fill the gap. My familiar stranger took the bite, though I wished instantly that she hadn't.

"Mrs. Cullen," she says, her bright voice like caramel and not the least forced. Also she has the sweetest smile on her lips, like the sound of her name should have no reason to freeze the blood in my veins. Which it incidentally does, the instant she says it. Of course I had seen her before. In pictures; afterwards.

The sound of the front door opening rings out again and there he stands; glorious as ever. Blond, smiling, dark chinos and youthful cardigan. A sight that could make every woman in the world drool. Now my body has frozen as well as my blood and I am unable to move. Why would he return? I told him to stay away. Was his memory that bad?

"A good morning to you, Isabella," he says, smiling as he strides further into the room. Bringing me closer to my doom, my edge.

"How are you this morning?"

When he's standing beside his wife they look like the perfect couple. Both of them beautiful and seemingly in love. It makes me want to hurl.

"Fine," I squeak, when my voice finally returns to me. Seeing her, his wife, is freaking me out. It was hard enough knowing she existed. Now knowing how beautiful she is it makes me want to sink into the earth while questioning him why he would cheat on her, the epitome of beauty, with plain, teen-aged me.

"We need to talk, Isabella." His voice is confident. To confident. It makes me want to break him like he broke me. Looking at him I force myself to block her out of my vision, out of my mind.

"Why?" My voice has returned to its senses and is now calm and cool.

"Because I want to know him, and I have the means to make it happen."

"And threatening me is the way to make it happen? This is how you ask me to relent to you? By bringing her here and trying to force me?" The straw that broke the camel's back; I finally understood the expression as my voice grew louder with every word.

"No freaking way, you asshole!" It is all I can do but scream at him, but I am worried about the people in the back room.

"Like I told you: you made your choice years ago. When you left me alone, crying, pregnant and terrified in a hospital bed. I told you to stay away from us, both then and last time I saw you, and I stand by that. The answer is no, no and hell no, dickhead."

Their faces look stricken by my tirade, and probably also by the fact that my voice rose about three octaves and into a pitch that even dogs would have trouble hearing.

"Isabella.." His voice tears at my resolve to keep him away, starting to fill my heart with remorse.

He had made the right choice. I knew that, deep down and behind all the hurt it had caused me. I look down at the floor, sighing.

"I'll have to call my husband." My voice now resigned. "He has a right to be part of this conversation, as he is Alex' father."

Carlisle's face falls, looking as if I just punched him in the stomach, but I dare him with my eyes to defy me. If he even tries I will make sure that he will never see Alex.

After a short while he whispers a soft "thank you", while reaching out to put his arm on my shoulder, but I twitch away before he gets to close.

"Don't thank me yet," I say. "And don't touch me." My voice has now turned cold and hard.

xXxXx

I dial Jasper's number, praying to God that he won't pick up. This conversation should be done face to face, not over the phone. Of course, I have no such luck.

"How you doin', sugar?" he asks, with that lazy, sexy-ass Texan accent as soon as he picks up.

Just hearing his voice makes my entire body relax and a slight sizzle runs up my spine. Just like every time I call him. I can just imagine him leaning back in his office chair with his one hand scratching the base of his neck. A bad habit he learned from me.

"Can you come down here?" I squeak, flitting my eyes to the middle-aged couple across the room. They really are quite perfect together. If I didn't hate them, I would have eaten that romance of a long and healthy marriage up. Then again; I know perfectly well that it wasn't all perfect. Thanks to me, I guess.

Luckily Jaspers office at the small law-firm he works at is only a couple of blocks away.

As soon as I am finished speaking I can hear the sound of his chair creaking and I know instantly that he is panicking. Usually I would only call to ask him down here for lunch.

"What's wrong?" he asks, panic lacing his voice and giving it that slight rasp. I know he is rubbing his chin, anxious to understand what has me upset.

"Well, it's quite a funny story actually," I say, doing my best to calm him down so that he doesn't kill himself with worry. He has been known to rub sores onto his chin in days of massive worry over me or Alex. "I've got Mr. And Mrs. Cullen standing here..." He doesn't bother to let me finish. He always knows what I need.

"I'll be right there."

xXxXx

And right here he is. I can feel his presence even before he speaks, before he opens the door and it makes the characteristic 'ping'. Jasper has created my safety for so long that I no longer need visual or audible contact to feel that safety. The second he's through the door I relax further, and it gets better when he walks up to me and wraps his arms around me. I slump into his chest and for a couple of minutes we just stand there in complete silence. Our biggest fear, as a family, waiting for us to speak first.

"Where are they?" he whispers into my hair. He has never seen either. Not in photos, not in anything. I refused him to, because I was too ashamed. Carefully I extract myself from his grip and nod towards the other couple, both of the smiling. They are a bright contrast to our darkness.

He grips my hand, squaring his shoulders before turning towards the Cullens. I can feel that he is silently preparing for battle. A battle I am too tired to fight on my own. Carlisle Cullens presence is draining me. I look up at the best support-system a girl could have, my husband, and see his face in hard lines.

"Mr. and Mrs. Cullen,-" I say, unwilling to use their birth names, "- this is my husband and Alex' father; Jasper Withlock."

Mrs. Cullen, with the grace of someone who isn't standing in the same room as the woman her husband cheated with, smiles brilliantly and say: "It's so nice to meet you." Jasper responds to her, but to Carlisle's greeting, he only nods, narrowing his eyes at the man he hates on my behalf.

"What exactly is it that you want from us?" Jasper asks, looking Carlisle directly in the eye.

"I want to meet my son," is the answer he gets from his arch-nemesis. "To get to know him."

"He is not your son."

I have never heard my husband's voice so harsh. So cold. So distant. I squeeze his hand in mine, making him look at me. I know I have to do this, any sort of law-suit will do nothing but harm my son, and I do not believe that the Cullens would wait a second to file for custody if they have to. I smile reassuringly to my husband before turning back to the one from my nightmares.

"When and how often will be decided by me and Jasper," I say adamant. "And it will only be you. Not your family. Not your wife. And you will not tell him that you are his biological father. Jasper is his father, as far as Alex is concerned you are a family friend who's babysitting him. Got it?"

Three pairs of eyes turn to me. One of the piercingly blue and deceived. I pull him into me and whisper in his ear:

"We have to trust them. If we don't do it willingly they will force us. You will always be Alex' father, no matter what. He has nothing on you."

From there on it's a ten minute discussion about the rules, but I refuse to budge. My way or no way. As they start to leave Carlisle reaches his hand to me, but I shy away. Jasper however grabs it hard and says with a stone-cold, menacing voice:

"Just know this, Mr. Cullen, heaven and hell will freeze before I let you hurt her again. She never deserved the pain, and you were never worthy of her tears; or time. She may trust you, but I do not. And if I see her crying one single tear over you? Then we are gone. We will take Alex with us and you will never get to see him again."

**A/N**  
>I would like to start this AN with something very personal. I just want you to know that one of the reasons for my slow update is that this story is kind of my life right now. My father being Carlisle and Alex being my newest half-brother. This story means an outlet for me, and is really important, but I need time to process and think as well. I hope you can all understand.

There is one guy I would like to thank especially much. My very own Edward. You inspire me to write, even if it's about a word a minute. I love you. No longer just falling in love, but loving.

All you lovely readers of mine; if you want, give me a review. Let me know what works and what doesn't. And maybe there's a part of you that is more creative than me. If that's so: give me a holla and shout your ideas of the roof-tops. I will take every single one of them seriously.

Love.


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